


Letters from the Front

by crimsondust



Category: NaPolA | Before the Fall (2004)
Genre: Angst, Crossover, Death, Letters, Longing, M/M, Napola AU, Unexpressed Love, War
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-29
Updated: 2016-04-29
Packaged: 2018-06-05 07:21:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,987
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6695110
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/crimsondust/pseuds/crimsondust
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>An AU in which Albrecht doesn't drown under the ice but instead is sent away by his father to the Eastern Front. Frederich waits for his letters.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Letters from the Front

**Author's Note:**

> Some parts inspired from Unsere Mutter, Unsere Vater and from a wonderful Youtube mashup video: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=u3TDxyXJ9v4
> 
> No copyright infringement intended.

 

Friedrich still had his friend's watch.

* * *

For the past week Frederich had been having nightmares. They were always the same. Albrecht trapped under the ice while he was trying to rescue him but could never reach him. He would wake up shaken, only to find Albrecht in the bed opposite him looking at him with concern. 

'Are you alright, Frederich?' Albrecht asked. 

He finally confessed. 

'I've been having strange nightmares. They are always the same. You trapped under ice.' Frederich gets a lump in his throat, 'And I'm not able to save you.'

Albrecht stood there dressed neatly in his smart navy uniform, with his rucksack on his shoulders.  A sad smile played on his lips. 'There might be some truth in your dreams.' 

'Don't say that Albrecht. Promise me you'll take care of yourself. Promise me you'll write.'

'If the war goes on for long we might even meet.'

'Yeah.' Frederich replied darkly. 'I wish things were different. I wish your father wasn't forcing you to go to the Eastern Front. I'll miss you and I have nothing to remember you by.' 

'Here.' Albrecht took off his watch and gave it to Frederich. 

'I'm sorry for calling you an egoist in the lavatory that day. I was angry, I didn't mean it.'

'I know.'

'I hope you'll forgive--'

'Nothing to forgive.'

'Wait.' There was a lump again in Frederich throat. All those times studying together for tests in the library, meeting outside for exercise, going for walks with Albrecht and he had never said it. 'I want to be with you.' he repeated in his mind, 'Say it.' he tried to command himself. 

'Yes?' Albrecht turned around as he was leaving.

'You've kept everything?'

Albrecht nodded. 

'Dress warmly, it's going to be cold out there at the front. Albrecht?

Albrecht looked at him.

'Take care.'

Frederich saw him outside in the courtyard getting into his father's car. Tomorrow morning Albrecht would be somewhere in Ukraine, miles away from him. It seemed that his heart might break into a thousand little pieces. He knew he loved Albrecht. Loved him more than words could describe. He looked towards the frozen lake and cried.

Albrecht looked up at the window as the car moved away from the castle and broke into loud sobs that he tried to stifle with his hand. His glance fell on the frozen lake. He wished he was under ice and not going to the Front. 

* * *

 

Dear Albrecht, 

The castle seems lonely without you. I miss you in the lessons. I keep looking at your empty bed hoping you'll be there and answer me. I'm training for the Winter Championships but my heart does not seem to be in it. I can't win them without you watching and supporting me. How is the fighting at the front? How I wish I could protect you from the horrors that you must be witnessing.  

Do you remember our discussion about the German classics and you introducing me to Thomas Mann and Bertolt Brecht? Do you get a chance to read? Write to me. 

Yours, 

Frederich

* * *

 

Dear Frederich, 

We spent some days training and some days travelling. I haven't been involved in proper fighting but that may be about to change. We're some 400 km into Russia. I would like to keep the letter full of hope but I'm afraid that would be a nicely written fiction and not the truth. I have seen many more children, women and unarmed men being killed. That night in the forest was our first taste of war. This is all war is. And I hate it with all my heart. 

Granted I have also seen courage in ample supply. There was a poor mother who bravely tried to protect her son. One of our soldiers died trying to protect his friend from heavy artillery fire. Unhappy are we to need and demand such bravery. Boys younger than us are coming here everyday. What future does it hold for them? What a strange unhappy world. 

We are digging trenches and it is sometimes so cold even the water freezes in our mugs and there are rats and lice and other infestations all around us. Yesterday there was heavy shelling which kept us up all night. Still it can't last for much longer? It's the little things I miss the most. I miss writing for the newspaper, I miss our discussions (I am pleased you remember the one about Brecht and Thomas Mann, they are wonderful writers, that I wish I could emulate), I miss late night strolls and peeping into windows and a thousand things that break my heart just thinking about them. Most of all, I miss you dear Frederich, I miss the time we spent together. Write soon, your letters fill the unhappy void that is my life. 

Always Yours, 

Albrecht

* * *

 

Dear Albrecht, 

What I have learned in all my days spent with you is that bravery sometimes is in not fighting. I lost the match, Albrecht and I think you may approve. They might kick me out but I can no longer be like them. I have always wanted to tell you that I love you. When you went away that day, my heart broke. I love you more than anything in the world but always found it difficult saying it. Nothing matters to me any more. Come back to me safe and sound dear Albrecht. The horrors you spoke of in the last letter, keep me up at night. I feel like the dream I saw was a prophesy. You are drowning beneath the ice and I cannot save you. Come back to me, Albrecht. Let the nightmare be over.

Yours forever,

Frederich

* * *

 

Dearest Albrecht, 

I never received your reply to my letter. Maybe it got lost in the mail. Hope everything is well with you. Write soon. 

Love

Frederich

* * *

 

Dearest Albrecht, 

It has been months without any news of you. Please let me know you are alive. I long for one word from your hand. I want to see you again, dearest friend. 

Love Frederich

* * *

 

Dearest Albrecht, 

I think I should write to you now that the war is over. I miss you everyday. We never found your body or how you died.

I would like to imagine that you died protecting a group of civilians caught in the cross fire. I'd like to think you died a hero, but is it selfish of me to wish that you had not died at all? 

All my days are spent thinking of you and how you might look now, how we might have met. I keep thinking of the things I want to say to you.  I have followed my father's footsteps and gotten work in a factory to keep my days occupied. My nights are devoted to thinking about you. 

Albrecht, I still have your watch. It doesn't work any more but it reminds me of you. It reminds me of days long gone by. I wear it everyday even though people here think it crazy to wear a watch that can't tell time. 

This letter has been the hardest thing I have had to write and it is harder still to end it because I don't want to say goodbye. 

Yours forever, 

Frederich

 

 

 

* * *

* * *

 

 

**Alternative Ending:**

Frederich waited at the train station. He wondered whether the train would be on time and whether he had remembered to lock the front door and whether the food would be ready by the time they got home. He had asked his mother to make something Albrecht might like. He had cleaned out the spare room but kept thinking if there was anything he might have forgotten. He thought of a thousand things that he may not have done. He wanted it to be perfect for Albrecht. He was worrying so much that he nearly did not see the train pull up at the station. There were a lot of people who were waiting for their loved ones so everyone scrambled towards the train even before it had stopped moving completely. 

People were opening the doors, going inside the carriages, hugging their loved ones through the windows and near the doors. There was so many people, the claustrophobic environment was getting to Frederich. Finally, a slim spare man emerged from the carriage. He had aged and looked far older than his twenty years. There were dark circles underneath his eyes, he had creases and jagged lines all over his face and a scar near his lips. He walked with a slight limp but there was no mistaking those blue eyes and that face. It was Albrecht alright. 

He managed a weak smile as he saw Frederich and allowed him an embrace. 

'You look like shit.'

Albrecht did not even manage a smile this time. 

'Yeah.'

Too many people made Albrecht jumpy and nervous.

'Welcome home. I've been waiting for you for so long. Come on. Let's go home.' 

Frederich watched his friend carefully over the weeks. He only talked when spoken too and that too in small sentences, he startled easily at any loud noises and he usually sat there in the room with a vacant expression while his mind seemed to be elsewhere. He would not discuss what had happened those three years or how he had managed to survive. He barely even touched his food.  

He did ask once, 'What happened to my parents?'

'They were killed in a bombing.' Frederich looked away, 'As was my dad when the factory was bombed, I was not there at the time.'

Albrecht did not seem to be able to show much emotion. Often at nights Frederich heard him weeping. 

Getting to know the new Albrecht would be a difficult task. But Frederich was willing to try. He didn't care how many times Albrecht pushed him away, he was going to be there for him. He brought Albrecht books from the library. Sometimes Albrecht would read, other times he would just stare listlessly at the ceiling. 

One spring three years later, Albrecht was standing near the window, admiring the birds singing outside. Frederich came from work and gazed at him for a long time.

'What?'

'You're smiling.'

'Don't get used to it.' Albrecht said before playfully tackling Frederich. 

'Hey, I used to box, remember? I can still take you on.' 

Albrecht smiled a weak smile, 'I know.'

Over the course of several months he watched Albrecht slowly getting used to the loud noises outside. He and Albrecht would walk outside the neighbourhood and talk about the weather, the neighbour's dog or the children playing outside. Albrecht would walk slowly, limping. He would even take a long time answering the questions.

Frederich blurted out once, 'Did you get my letters?'

Albrecht shook his head.

'Well, you never replied, so I figured you didn't get them. I wrote about how much I loved you. All the time when we were at school, I could not muster up the courage to say it. I love you.'

'I hear you.'

Frederich sighed. It would take a lot of time. The doctor did say that Albrecht might never go back to his old self. Most soldiers coming back from the war were like that. But Albrecht, Albrecht was even more sensitive. It would take a lot longer. The horrors he would have seen. Frederich would not be surprised if he never got better. He would be there for him as a friend if nothing else, even if it broke his heart to watch him like that.

Albrcht saw Frederich's knitted brows and understood. He put his hand in Frederich's.

Frederich's heart beat fast. It was a start. It was something. He looked at Albrecht with love and sorrow in his eyes. It was a start, he reminded himself. Perhaps someday, he and Albrecht might be together. Someday. He watched the birds fly away into the sky. Someday. 

 

 

 

 


End file.
